


Silent

by scarsandstars



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Boner, Grinding, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Touch-Starved Shiro (Voltron), Voyeurism, mlm author, thin walls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 17:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarsandstars/pseuds/scarsandstars
Summary: Shiro can't figure out why these walls are so paper-thin, but that's the last thing on his mind at the moment. The waves of pleasure running through him from head to toe at the friction are almost overwhelming, because it really has been that long."Shiro..." Keith moans, loudly, in that way he does. In that stupid way he does.That little shit.





	Silent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maginot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maginot/gifts).



> So the walls are thin, Keith is a tease, Shiro can't resist. It's my first fic for this fandom!

Training tends to be pretty uneventful, pretty straightforward, sometimes even predictable and boring as time goes on. They fight the gladiators, sometimes a whole dozen of them; the team runs and jumps and throws punches and keeps an eye out for each other. Then they hit the showers and eat, or drink, or hang out. Coran was right that very first day, it really is a great team bonding exercise. 

They have been going at it for a couple of hours when it happens. It catches Shiro by surprise. One second, he's charging forward against a gladiator that's about to attack Keith from the side, and the next one there's a loud thud as Keith's back slams against the floor, Shiro's weight punching the air out of his chest. Keith groans, but he doesn't try to push Shiro away. His arms are spread to the sides as somehow Shiro managed to fall right between Keith's thighs. Shiro's apology gets caught in his throat when he sees Keith's eyes, wide and violet and indecipherable. Keith is blushing furiously, but it has to be the exhausting two hours of exercise they've been through. Still, their chests are pressed flush together, their hearts pounding against each other. For whatever reason, they decided to train with no armour today. So here is Keith's body up against him, only thin fabric between them, and Keith isn't moving. He seems just as frozen as Shiro's throat for a moment that feels like an eternity. 

When Keith finally does _something_ , he clears his throat and moves his hips up against Shiro. He bites his bottom lip. It immediately pulls Shiro out of whatever entranced state he was in, and embarrassingly enough, makes him painfully aware of the rush of blood shooting straight towards his dick. Shiro can feel his face turn bright red, his ears burning as he fumbles around Keith's shoulders to push himself up and off of him; and though he can't guess exactly how much time he spent there lying on top of Keith, the look on the other paladins' faces when he finally gets up lets him know it wasn't the brief second he was hoping for. He takes a deep breath. His heart is pounding in his ears, and he chooses to believe it's mostly embarrassment. He clears his throat and turns to look at Keith--he catches his big eyes locked on his, that look he can't quite describe but which he's ultimately sure doesn't really mean anything-- and he mechanically reaches down to offer him a hand to hold on to as he stands up. 

He tries to play it cool, but that's never been his forte. Especially when he's fighting the beginnings of a nervous boner. All he can do, really, is run a hand through his tuft of white hair and fake a smile. A flimsy "I guess that's enough for today, guys," and an even more embarrassing "Good job, guys," as he rushes unceremoniously out the door. 

An hour later he's come out of the shower, he's finally in his room, managed to quiet down the obnoxious voice inside his head reminding him of how he embarrassed himself, and he's ready for bed. He dries himself up with a towel and pulls on his underwear. His head hits the pillow and he's ready to sleep and leave this awkward incident behind. 

But there's a sound coming from Keith's room.

It's been a long day. Shiro wants nothing more than to lay his head down and forget all about it until morning. He wants some alone time as well as some peace and quiet. But the walls are really thin.

He hears Keith grunt, and for a blissful, naive second, Shiro wonders if he's having a bad dream. The sound that follows the grunt is low, raspy, deliberate; it hitches up at the very end and Shiro imagines Keith's mouth parted to let it out. Blood shoots straight to the tips of his ears. Also to his cock. Again. 

Shiro's eyes widen and he swallows hard--he hadn't exactly had time to think about the last time he touched someone, had someone touch him, or touched himself, what with all that being held prisoner and forced to fight for his life during an entire year by evil, fuzzy aliens. Not to mention having broken up with Adam (well, having Adam break up with _him_ ) mere weeks before he was abducted. And now having to pilot a giant robotic lion and finding himself a leader in an intergalactic war. The small sounds coming from Keith's room are doing a relentless job at reminding him of it, though. Of how touch-starved he is. He can't even remember the last time he jerked off. But he's not about to jerk off to the sound of Keith.

So, he closes his eyes and stubbornly refuses to entertain the thought. 

But Keith _is_ jerking off.

There's a series of pants and muffled grunts that Shiro can hear. He imagines Keith is taking it slow--but he immediately stops himself from following that train of thought. While it is true that he's been seeing Keith quite differently since this whole thing began, he's also been pretty sure that having a thing with Shiro isn't something that could interest him. And sure, Shiro has had to stop himself from staring too long at Keith's pretty mouth when he's standing close to him, and he's had to consciously look away from the slight curve of his tiny waist and the shape of his ass when he walks away. But that doesn't really mean anything. He's not Lance. Inter-species dating isn't really his thing at the moment; he just likes to look at Keith because his other options would be covered in green hair or blue slime or yellow tentacles, and he doesn't feel quite that adventurous. He just likes looking at Keith, a handsome human being. And he likes touching Keith. And making Keith laugh when they're alone together and the frown finally slips off his face. And he likes when they brush hands by accident, or when Keith touches the curve of his neck from behind when he's sitting down, or when they lean over the same counter and Keith stays a little too close to him, radiating warmth and safety. But it means nothing. It _is_ nothing. 

So he takes a deep breath, swallows hard again, tries to focus all his energy on ignoring the moans and the passing thought of Keith's warm skin under his hands. It's embarrassing. It's inappropriate, too, because they're teammates now, fighting a war bigger than anything they could have ever imagined.

But Keith won't shut up. Shiro can hear him moan a little louder, grunt a little harder. His own dick is hard now, begging for attention after being ignored for too long. Shiro yanks the sheets away from his legs and stares down at himself in the dim blue light. He shifts just slightly on the bed, tries to turn on his side and continue to ignore this whole thing, but his dick brushes against the mattress and it throbs with want. He’s too hard and he takes off his underwear out of spite, and the mere brush of his hand proves to be too much in itself. So, Shiro accidentally lets out a moan. And then he breathes a quiet "Ugh," that he hopes won't travel through to the next room. 

But of course it does. Of course it fucking does. 

"Mmm, fuck..." Keith moans, loud and shameless from the other side of this inexplicably thin wall.

Shiro's breath catches in his throat, and the next second he's letting out a shaking "Fuck," because that seems to be the only word his brain is capable of processing. His brain that is now too busy detailing the image of Keith's neck curved back, exposing his Adam's apple, with his soft, black hair scattered over the pillow. Strands of it clinging to his forehead; his skin pale, sweating, begging to be touched. Licked. Bitten. Marked. 

"Fuck," Shiro sighs again with his face half-buried in the pillow and his fingers touching the base of his cock, hesitant in spite of his pulsing need. 

Keith moans again, low and raspy and drawn out. Shiro thinks of Keith's hand inside his underwear. Stroking. Moving.

A louder gasp escapes his lips before he can really do anything about it, because it's late and he's weak, and he's licked his palm and wrapped it around his cock. He holds it there, gives a soft squeeze at the base and almost comes right there. To no avail, he tries to push the thought of Keith touching his own dick away. He decides, stubbornly, that he can't do this. He wouldn't be able to look Keith in the eye again, ever, so he rolls over on his stomach and tries to will his erection away by squeezing his eyes shut, taking deep breaths, and ignoring the deep, raspy moans coming from next door. 

"Shiro..." Keith moans, loudly, in that way he does. In that stupid way he does.

That little shit.

Shiro's eyes snap open. His dick twitches against the mattress when it clicks inside his brain that this is intentional. He listens more closely, holding his breath for what feels like hours.

"Shiro," Keith half moans and half grunts, followed by panting and whining that feel like music to Shiro's ears.

Shiro lets out a moan against the pillow as he grinds his hips into the mattress, and Keith responds immediately with a gasp. Shiro can't figure out why these walls are so paper-thin, but that's the last thing on his mind at the moment. The waves of pleasure running through him from head to toe at the friction are almost overwhelming, because it really has been that long. He takes it slow, draws it out; he pulls his hips back and grinds against the soft sheets once more, panting and moaning still against the pillow.

He can't say the same for Keith, of course. Judging by the sounds he's making, getting lower and faster with every passing minute, Shiro imagines Keith working himself hard and fast. He imagines Keith's hand rubbing his dick almost desperately, his thighs spread wide and his hips moving in time with his strokes.

"Shiro, fuck me," Keith moans through gritted teeth, and it almost sends him over the edge. "Please fuck me, Shiro, please."

Shiro gasps. Loud and dry, followed by a choked moan. He's grinding harder and faster against the mattress, too lost in the feel of the friction against his skin to think much about anything else. Anything but Keith. Of course.

He remembers the feel of Keith's heartbeat against his chest and can feel his own pounding against his ribcage. He lets his mouth hang open and lifts himself off the bed slightly, just barely enough to bring his hand down his body and fuck into his fist. Keith is letting out choked cries like he's too close, like whatever he's doing feels too good, like whatever he's imagining Shiro doing is too much for him to handle.

Shiro's mind wanders. He imagines himself behind Keith, pressing his head against the pillow because he's too damn loud. He thinks of Keith's skin, hot and sweaty under his touch, of Keith warm and tight around his cock. He's fucking hard and fast into his closed fist like it was Keith's body, like his thrusts were what was making those delicious sounds come out of Keith's pretty lips instead of his own hands.

"Shiro, god, Shiro..." Keith whines, and then he cries out. His voice is rough and shaky; Shiro can tell that he's biting his lip but not to quiet himself down. Like everything else, it's just to put on a show for Shiro. It makes heat pool in his lower abdomen, delicious and familiar--he didn't realise how he'd missed this feeling until now. How he'd needed it. 

The thought and the sound of Keith's orgasm finally pushes him over the edge. Shiro pumps into his hand a few more times, clumsy and sloppy, groaning loudly as he spills over the sheets. He moans a handful of "Ah!" sounds that he's sure will give him away, but his orgasm is shooting through his body like the wave of an explosion, hot and devastating. He sees stars behind his eyelids and breathes Keith's name as he rides it out, practically milking every last drop out of himself.

He's covered in sweat by the time it's over, he's made a mess of his sheets and possibly an ass of himself, but he doesn't even care. His heart beats frantic in his chest and he struggles to catch his breath, though of course he'd never admit to that.

Keith's room is silent. Before getting out of bed and cleaning up, Shiro stays completely still and just listens. He can only hear a vague rustling of what he guesses is fabric, a couple of footsteps, and then nothing.

And since he can't--or won't--process what just happened, he rolls off the bed and starts to pull out the sheets. He fucked up. He knows he did. He could have ignored it or gone to walk around somewhere in the castle or gotten himself a drink, or done anything but jerk off to the sound of Keith jerking off to him. He doesn't even wanna think about what he'll do when they meet in the morning, how he'll look Keith in the eye.

The door behind him slides open and startles him; he turns around immediately, ready to fight, but instead of an intruder, he finds Keith standing under the frame in his black boxer briefs, his hair a mess, blushing all the way down to his chest. He lets himself in Shiro's room and the door closes behind him, and then he just stands there in silence, looking at a very naked Shiro. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Shiro's heart catches in his throat. He can't, for the life of him, find anything to say to Keith. Can't even move his facial muscles at the moment.

Then Keith smirks like he knows something that Shiro doesn't, like he got away with something. He smirks like he got just what he wanted (he did), like it was a challenge (it is). The little shit.

Shiro's chest feels full with warmth and something he won't admit is hope. And maybe something much stronger, and bigger, and terrifying. But he smirks right back at Keith, the little shit, and walks up to him with determination.

He doesn't say a word because Keith doesn't expect him to.

He takes Keith's face in his hands and kisses him, deepens it when Keith opens his mouth and greets him with an eager tongue. Keith kisses him back like a starved man, like he’d been waiting for this for years, grabs his wrists and then twists his fingers into his hair. Then, Shiro does the same—Keith’s hair is as soft as he imagined, his lips just as sweet, his kiss just as demanding and hard and perfect. Shiro gives the back of Keith's hair a hard pull, breaking the kiss to make him look up into his eyes.

"I can't fucking believe you," Shiro says in a low, disapproving voice, though his bright eyes and his wide smile betray him.

"Kiss me again," Keith replies, voice worn-out, breathless and smirking.

Shiro does.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on twitter @gothshirogane. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
